Leah

I listened to this brilliant sermon by Tim Keller on Leah, wife of Jacob, "The Girl Nobody Loved." One of his points (and one he admitted that he wished were different) was that we're all looking for Rachel, like Jacob, and we all wake up to Leah in the morning. We look for jobs and houses and families and a gerneral sense of security, looking for Rachel but they're all Leah in the morning. She's inescapable. What you look for is not what you get, upon inspection. This means two things, possibly more: we're not made for this world as it is, and this world is incapable of satisfying us, if we're honest with ourselves. This is freeing, in fact, rather than utterly depressing. Dissatisfaction is realistic, and things of this world need not be utterly satisfying. We need not lean on them so hard, nor be so disappointed when they fail. We have Someone much greater, not of this world, who is faithful and does satisfy and will ultimately satisfy completely.

This is a hard thing to remember in the face of a very uncertain future and a deeply frustrating present, but it is true. My issue is my tendency to rest my hopes on this new job (potentially) or this new trip away from Memphis, on this new set of friends. They will be Leah in the morning. This present disappointment is an opportunity to see Him do something--in my situation, in me, in others. May my eyes be open for it.

Breaking Through

Thoughts (and pardon the lack of clear organization):
1. God is a gentleman. I say this with no irony. He allows us dignity, and I don't really understand that. He wakes me morning by morning (I couldn't very well open my eyes without His enabling, obvsly.), but there are days when I ask Him to wake me when He wants me, and He does so, gently. It's a better awakening than on other days--no real struggle, only immediate wakefulness. Body and mind don't always come out of sleep exactly together, but I awake with a sense of profound peace. What amazes me is that He has always waited for me to ask Him, and left me to sleep on days when I did not. He is not forceful; He is gentle. He waits for the invitation. This is one of many demonstrations of His meekness.

2. God is a suitor. There are times I really don't get why He does what He does. Okay, I never get why He does what He does, but there are times when things are particularly boggling. Christmas was one of those times. I had been given certain expectations of what Christmas presents I might be receiving from certain relatives, and when the time came to receive said presents, I found something entirely different in my hands--a jewelry set worth nearly $3k, with a mondo ring made of white gold, diamonds, and three carats of--i think it's called--citrine. Now I know that there are those who would immediately fall to the floor in a heap of gratitude at such a present, but I just looked at it in shock as said relative explained what it all was. I cried all the way home. To be perfectly honest, I had hoped for cash, as it would take off some of the weight of the year's coming expenses, and I couldn't see any good whatsoever in some pieces of metal and stone. I probably sound like a bit of a brat here, but given my expectations (which I should stop having altogether, I think) and my penchant for the practical over the pretty, the sight of what I saw as wasted money was a blow to the solar plexus.
But here's what happened when I got home. I have been working on something bloggable for quite a while now, and I had a bit on Ephesians that I wanted to get out (that's a bit later), so I was rolling around in my journal, and my entry for that morning included Hebrews 13:5 (NIV), "Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have, because God has said, 'Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.'" My response: "Wow, was Hebrews 13:5 ever a word for me--wish I had remembered it earlier. Went to ____'s house today, and he gave me a very unexpected gift. Was hoping for and expecting some money or a laptop. It was a highly unwelcome gift, because it seemed to meet no need. Not so. It was meeting a Hebrews 13:5 need, and I love it." God was seeking me out, preparing me to trust Him, and providing a physical reminder of His ever-presence (and His faithfulness as a provider), and to boot He gave me some very pretty jewels to wear. He seeks me when I am too blind to see Him, too concentrated on this world to hear Him call, "Come away with Me." What a suitor.

3. The Bible is a really emotional book. Seriously, we Americans are tremendously uncomfortable with emotion, but the Bible so definitely comes from a hot culture. The sheer amount of emotion that people expressed in Acts is pretty incredible, and I love how Paul and the churches loved each other: Acts 21:1 "After we had torn ourselves away from them, we put out to sea..." The elders from Ephesus travel to visit Paul as he heads toward Jerusalem, and they realize they will never see his face again on this side of life, so they spend time together, crying and praying and encouraging each other, and they have to tear themselves away to leave. Acts 21:13 "When we heard this, we and the people there pleaded with Paul not to go up to Jerusalem. Then Paul answered, 'Why are you weeping and breaking my heart? I am ready not only to be bound, but also to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.'" What beautiful words. They wept, and Paul's heart broke. These were people who really loved each other and expressed it. And Paul himself was a really emotional guy. So many of the guys I see at school seem to adhere really strongly to an intellectual approach to everything, to the neglect of emotion, and I'm pretty sure that's wrong. Your brain can only take you so far when people are hurting around you.

4. One of my approaches to Bible study, especially in the epistles, is to turn things around and look at them from the opposite angle (it's not deconstruction, but it borrows a bit of the concept). Ephesians 4, thusly: (1-3) I am commanded to live a life worthy of my calling, the characteristics of which are complete humility and gentleness, patience, bearing with other people on the basis of love, and making every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. The anti-characteristics: any pride; abuse of any power, whether of words, authority, physical strength, psychological manipulation, etc.; impatience; not dealing with people on the basis of love; not keeping the unity of the Spirit by actually fomenting discord (and this could be through words), or not keeping the unity of the Spirit by being lax and passive where unity is concerned.
(4-6) The foundation of this life: one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. We as believers have so much in common. Think of it: who else can possibly claim all of this? I don't know of any other grouping of people that can lay claim to so many areas of deep commonality. This ought to tie us together.
(11ff) Apostles , prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers have the responsibility to serve, to build the body up in unity in the faith and knowledge of the Son of God, and to become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ. (Side note: the day we went over this in NT, one of the guys asked if this was simultaneous or a sequence; the main result of the ensuing discussion was that I put on my inner iTunes and listened to "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" for the next twenty-five minutes. As I see it, none of that really deserves debate since 1. we can all read Greek, and each of us ought to be able to figure that out to his individual satisfaction, and 2. beginning to do any part of this will keep us too busy for debate and will also produce the other things anyway.) The basis of our unity is the faith and knowledge of the Son of God. This is the means by which we join the body and by which the body stays together, as Tozer said:

Someone may fear that we are magnifying private religion out of all proportion, that the 'us' of the New Testament is being displaced by a selfish 'I.' Has it ever occurred to you that one hundred pianos all tuned to the same fork are automatically tuned to each other? They are of one accord by being tuned, not to each other, but to another standard to which one must individually bow. So one hundred worshippers meeting together, each one looking away to Christ, are in heart nearer to each other than they would possibly be were they to become 'unity' conscious and turn their eyes away from God to strive for closer fellowship. Social religion is perfected when private religion is purified. The body becomes stronger as its members become healthier. The whole church of God gains when the members that compose it begin to seek a better and a higher life (The Pursuit of God 90).

(4:29) Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. This doesn't seem to say that unwholesome talk won't be there, but rather that we can't let it out when it occurs to us. Words do so much. In Africa, if you tell someone he's likely to die within a certain period of time, it's pretty much a guarantee that he will waste away and die. Words have power. They can destroy, or they can truly build, and our words ought to build.
Things that grieve the Spirit: bitterness, rage, anger, brawling, slander, every form of malice. What we ought to have--the opposite of the above: kindness, compassion, and forgiveness on the basis of Christ.
(5:1) "Begin therefore to mime God, like beloved children." Children imitate their parents. They take on their attitudes toward others, their assumptions, everything. We are to imitate God as His deeply loved kids.
(5:10) "And find out what pleases the Lord" (NIV)--literally, "testing (as if by fire) what is truly pleasing to the Lord." In my family this has a particular relevance, on at least two levels. One: four years ago we had our physical lives tested by fire, and very little of what we had came out of the fire unscathed. One or two pieces of furniture survived, but they are very much a picture of the person who builds with wood, hay, and straw in I Cor. 3, and comes through the flames but still reeks of smoke. One begins to see, at least temporarily, how little a hold things ought to have. Two: Steven and I are total firebabies. He's worse than me--singed all his hair off multiple times growing up, burned up a 50 kg bag of mealie meal when he was about four--but he and I have joined in multiple fire experiments together. We have learned that we can soak a tennis ball in rubbing alcohol, set it alight, and play with it with no ill effects. We've learned that firestarting liquids make excellent "ink" on concrete, and that under the right conditions, flames can be invisible but very much physically present. And why do we do this? Some, like Steven's teacher who sent him for talks with the school guidance counselor after he wrote about some of his fire-related experiences as a child, assume a certain amount of crazy. The mere fact is that we just like to burn things. It's fun to see what will make it through a flame and how. I think we should approach the testing of the things that please God in this way. We ought to enjoy looking for what pleases the Father, I think. There ought to be something of fun about it, rather than the stereotypical Baptist drudgery of do-nots. We should try things and just see if they please Him, and participate in the grand experiment--to get out there and actually put things in the fire to begin with, to see what comes out on the other side. He made us to glorify Him and to enjoy Him forever; it stands to reason that it ought to be enjoyable. Also, God has made it possible for us to know what makes Him smile--it's sort of scandalous that the Almighty should be so open. We ought to take advantage of that. We'd be really ungrateful not to.

A Testimony of His Faithfulness

If you've known me for any real length of time, you know that I have a fair amount of history with crazy things that don't seem to happen to other people often. For a Southern Baptist, I'm a little charismatic, which makes people uncomfortable occasionally (heck, it makes me uncomfortable occasionally). I believe, though, that my God is real, and that He hasn't changed throughout the ages (Malachi 3:6), and that He's just as capable--and desirous--of doing cool things in His people's lives as He clearly was in the Old and New Testaments.

I have been requested by certain people who are tired of my pig's head post (by the by, the pig's head survived the freezer fiasco because it was already spoiled, ha) to talk about Gideon, since he's come up a lot recently. To be fair to the story, though, I'd like to put it into its historical context in my life.

Two threads of my life were spun into one in late 2005. Mom had been my college Sunday school teacher earlier that year, and she had talked to us one day about having a vision for our lives--the first thread. She took it from Proverbs 29:18, "Where there is no vision, the people cast off restraint, but happy is he who keeps the law." She talked about how having a guiding vision for our lives (and by "vision" I do not mean a waking dream, but rather a driving motivation) would keep us on the straight path and give us a foundation in our walk. At the time, I was fairly well adrift and miserable, and feeling defeated because of some choices I had made in my first two years of college, so I began to pray for vision. Some months later, Dad was preaching in one of the services leading up to our Lottie Moon Christmas Offering, and he began to talk about George Mueller, and about how, through prayer, Mueller had seen God feed and clothe over ten thousand orphans in Britain, and about how his life was a testimony to God's faithfulness, and I found myself struggling not to sob aloud in my pew--here was vision. I asked God to make my life a testimony to His faithfulness.

The second thread of my life actually predated the first in time, but it really received its lifelong impetus from the first. When we lived in Zimbabwe, we were wholly supported by money that Southern Baptists gave in the Lottie Moon offering and through the Cooperative Program. Money they gave provided us with food, clothing, vehicles--everything. When we came back to the States, gratitude fueled in me a desire to give, and as soon as I had money, I gave over my tithe every year to the Christmas offering. It was a miraculous thing to pray each year about what I should give, and then to see God put a number on my heart and provide the money for me. For a long time it was a couple hundred dollars a year, until one year, when David Miller, an evangelist with disabling muscular atrophy, came to Mid-America and preached to a group of high schoolers about our possibilities. He asked us to think about what kind of money passed through our hot little hands every year, and he offered us a challenge: what would it look like if a group of high schoolers stepped up, and each person gave $1000 to the Lottie Moon offering? Again, he cast a vision. I prayed about it, and I did not give $1000 that year, but, the year after, as I was praying about what to give for Christmas, I felt the tug: Give a thousand dollars this year. (Note: God has never spoken to me audibly, but I have heard Him all the same, though I don't begin to understand it.) I said, "Yes, I'll give, but I need You to provide it." So I turned in my commitment sheet that year, saying that I was going to give $1000 to the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering (if you're curious about what that is, email me, and I'll give you more information than you ever wanted to have), and within two weeks, God provided it. My grandfather gave me $500 for Christmas and my birthday, which made half, and then my mom had spoken at a women's thing in a church in Arkansas, and a lady approached her with a check for $500 and said, "This is for your daughter; I don't know why, but God impressed it on me to give this to her." Bam. One thousand dollars.

In 2004, God did not lay a number on my heart, so I didn't give any money. Dad has always stressed that we not give if God doesn't tell us to give, because He knows in advance whether we'll need the money, and just because it glorifies Him to be obedient. So that year, I sat and watched as others from our church gave, and I rejoiced with them as they met the Lottie Moon goal without me. It was truly sweet to sit and watch and be a part of them and to know, beyond a doubt, that God didn't need my offering, but that He had given me the privilege of giving each year.

As I said earlier, though, things really came together in 2005. By the time Lottie Moon rolled around, I had been praying for a life vision for some time, and God was about to give me a chance to be a testimony to His faithfulness. I was a senior in college, and I was about to end my next-to-last semester, when God laid on my heart a desire to give $2000 to Lottie Moon. Now, given the earlier experiences, this might not sound that fantastic, but at that time I had about $46 in my bank account. "God," I said, "are You sure about this? Forty-six isn't the same as two thousand. I mean, I know You know that, but still...." I had seen Him provide before, though, so I said yes. Because I was still at Union and had decided to go home less often, I sent my pledge with Mom to put into the box when the church marched that Sunday, but I felt prompted by God not to tell my Lottie Moon goal to anyone who could help me, because He would provide without any scheming on my part, so I sent it to her sealed. Even Dad didn't know, because the finance people at church reported the total of goals to him, not the particulars. So there I was, pledged to give $2000, with $46 to my name, and I couldn't tell anyone with money about it. I was in for a wild ride.

By December 14, I had received $750--$150 from a speaking engagement Lucy Baptist Church, and $600 for my birthday and for Christmas, from my grandfather. When I had spoken at Lucy Baptist, I had gotten to hear Dr. B. Gray Allison, President Emeritus of Mid-America Baptist Theological Seminary and a serious supporter of missions, speak about the importance of missions giving. He challenged us to spend more on Christ that Christmas than on our families or friends, and I took that challenge. I gave the $750 to the Lottie Moon Offering, and I asked God to provide the money for me to buy my family at least something. Within the week, my uncle gave me $50 for Christmas--enough to get something for each member of my immediate family.

In January, I still had $1250 to go before I met the goal, when I went to Candidate Conference in Virginia, in hopes of going overseas for two years. During those four days God did some things that changed my life. For one, He did not give me the freedom to go overseas yet, so I put my application on hold and came back home (and eventually came to Mid-America, though it was not something I had had in mind at that point). I also met my best friend, who has been a major catalyst in my life and something of a discipler, as she's challenged me and made me think about a ton of things--like community, for example--that I had never thought about before. But one of the stranger things that happened was that, on January 7, I missed my plane from Atlanta to Memphis. I couldn't have been happier. I had come away from VA with such peace and joy that I wanted nothing more than to tell people. I had had a wonderful conversation with a man named Peter on my plane to Atlanta, and I was looking for more of that, so six hours in the airport meant six hours to talk to people whom I had never seen before and would probably never seen again. Thus began a series of divine encounters, the most beautiful of which was a conversation with 99-year-old Sol Lipkin, who is basically the father of the shuffleboard industry, though I didn't know how big a deal he was at the time. What I saw was a sweet man in a wheelchair who was smiling at me, so I went over to him and asked how he was doing. We talked for a while. He showed me pictures of his family and girlfriend, told me about fifty-thousand-square foot game rooms, and then told me a story about a man who had asked him if he had any friends. When he replied that yes, he did have friends, the man told him that no, he didn't have any friend but the dollar in his pocket, and that if he had a dollar in his pocket, he always had a friend. Sol asked me if I had any friends, and told me the same thing that his friend had told him, and I replied by saying that I had a friend--Jesus-- who was a better and more constant friend than a dollar. At the time, I wasn’t expecting to see how seriously that would play out in my life. You see, when I got back to Memphis, I couldn’t touch my checking account, for fear of overdrawing it and owing more than I could pay. In order to drive to work, I had to have gas in my car, and for that I needed money, so I began to pray. Five dollars would come from one source, and then $20 from my mom for gas, then again another $20 for gas from my dad on January 11, without prompting from me. I had been taught early on that faith is living without scheming, so I had purposed not to ask or even hint to my parents about my money situation. But as I began to receive that money for gas, I began to fall under conviction from the Holy Spirit: that money was not for me. I wasn’t working toward meeting my Lottie Moon goal, and I should have been. So I submitted my money to God from that point; I told Him that I would give all the money from every check and all cash that came to me until the goal was filled, unless the giver specifically designated it for something else. I gave the $20 from Dad to the offering, then I gave my paychecks from work--$277.42, for a total of $1047.42. There I was, then; all of my money was dedicated; I could not touch it unless I wanted to steal from God, so I didn’t even have a dollar in my pocket; Jesus was truly my only friend.

I started my spring semester at Union University on February 1, still with $952.58 to go, and still waiting to see where it would come from. You can certainly imagine my pleasure, then, at opening my mailbox that first day to find about seven cards. Two of them were from the Women’s Missionary Union at Howse Baptist Church, Atwood, TN. The WMU had adopted me and had decided to send me $5 per month from their budget. So that first day at school, God had sent me $10 toward that goal--$5 each for January and February. That was amazing! But then I opened another card. Remember, I had signed all my future money away, so I would have nothing with which to buy groceries or gas, and man cannot live on cafeteria food alone, no matter the quality. But God knew about that, so when I opened that card and saw a Wal-Mart gift card for $20--from Sissy Crocker, also of Howse Baptist--I knew that He was providing groceries for me. I went to Wal-Mart, bought my groceries, and found that the gift card actually had $40 on it. I had money to buy groceries the next time I needed them as well, so God was not providing just for the present, but also for the future. That same day, I received $25 from a schoolmate who wanted to buy a textbook from me. The excellent thing about receiving the money at school was that I had to send it home to my parents, so that they could put it into the offering plate. This meant that every time money came to me, I could send it to my mother with a letter explaining how God was providing for me, which comforted her greatly, because she knew of my goal, though not how much I was waiting for Jesus to provide, and she had expected that I would starve to death at college, with no way to buy food. So I got to send her that first letter, bumping up the money God had provided to $1082.42, and I later found out that she had been praying for me to have money in my mailbox when I arrived at school. I thus got to see not only my prayers answered that day, but also my mother’s. God doubled the blessing, allowing me to be a testimony of His faithfulness to her as well as to me.

As the rest of the story goes, on February 7, I received $40 ($1122.42) in the mail from a friend I had met in January; she had been babysitting, but she didn’t need the money and she wanted to be a part of God’s work in my life. On February 8, my tax return--$155 ($1277.42)--arrived, and on February 13, my friend sent me $50 ($1327.42) from the sale of a skateboard--a friend had bought it from her months before, and hadn’t paid her until then, and they decided together that they wanted the money to go to Lottie Moon through me. On February 15, $66 ($1393.42) arrived--my last paycheck from January. On February 27, I received $50 ($1433.42) from a girl in Atlanta (whom I had never met), who wanted to be a part of what God was doing. On March 6, Mrs. Crocker put another $40 on the Wal-Mart card, providing for groceries yet again, and on March 16, $450 (1893.42) came in the mail, from an anonymous donor. On March 19, I was home for spring break, and I was still praying for money, by this point tremendously excited at all the ways Jesus was providing in my life, telling everyone who would listen about it. That morning in Sunday school, my class had studied Isaiah 7, in which God tells a king to ask Him for a sign, and the king refuses and receives a rebuke. That afternoon I had sat down to read my Bible, and I came to Judges 6, the passage in which Gideon asks God for a sign several times, and God gives him those signs, never rebuking him for asking. I figured that the two passages together on the same day were no coincidence, so I asked for a sign. That night, Dad sent me on an errand, and I stopped to see my brother at Starbucks, where he works, on the way back. I spoke with him a little, telling him about how God was providing for my Lottie Moon goal, and he stopped me, saying, “I’ll be right back,” and rushed to the back of the store. I had assumed that he had heard a phone, but he came back in a minute with a wad of twenties in his hand. He told me that he wouldn’t use the money for anything good, and he handed me $80. This floored me, because I hadn't expected him to want to be a part of what I was doing. What a sign! So now I had $1973.42, with $26.58 to go. That week I received $20 in reimbursement for food I had bought on my trip to Richmond, and the week before I had received $7 from the ladies at Howse Baptist, which put me squarely at $2000.42. God provided for the entire goal.

On March 28, I received $500 from my grandfather, and on April 4 I received another $20 on the Wal-Mart card from Sissy Crocker. This money provided for me for the rest of the semester, even allowing me to take some of my friends--for whom I had been praying that they would see God’s faithfulness in their lives, and all of whom had recently gone broke--out for meals. God poured liberally into my life the entire semester, allowing me to pour liberally into the lives of others. As in the feeding of the five thousand, He blessed what was there and spread it out into a large group of people, giving us blessings to share with others, until we had enough and extra for later.

America, return to Christ!

So this is the Statue of Liberation through Christ that stands outside the World Overcomers' church on Kirby and Winchester. On any given Sunday afternoon, protesters stand at the corners of the property with sign declaiming against graven images and the money racket of the church. I've heard that the statue cost about $60,000. It's about thirty feet tall.

Can I just say that I feel a deep, abiding affection for it? I think it's really great. Every time I pass it on the way to church, it makes me smile.

Here's why: I don't know too much about the Overcomers' theology, but I do know that they care about and reach out to Memphis, and that they have an international outlook. They could be much worse. As a church, they are extremely visible, and they have a lot of passion, which I admire and wish Baptists would emulate.

But the reason I really think this is a piece of genius is that it's as offensive as it is. On the front, in large caps, it says, "AMERICA, RETURN TO CHRIST." In its left hand are the Ten Commandments, and in its right hand a cross. On its crown rests the word "JEHOVAH." And here's what I love about it. The Overcomers have totally shanghaied an Enlightenment symbol and changed it to draw attention to Christ. And they've done it in an in-your-face way in a part of Memphis that is rapidly going downhill, and they're totally unashamed of Christ. Look at the symbol: she's not just liberty leading the masses. Her crown and splendor come from God, and she's not heading forward under the golden glow of Enlightenment thought; the cross is her torch. Knowledge is not her shield and treasure; she carries the words of God. Why wouldn't I like it? It's a big, bold way of telling America as a whole, and Memphis specifically, to get right with God.

I keep thinking about this Gandhi quote :"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ" (Thanks, Ashley). How often do I look like I have Christ? Just walking around or driving down the street, am I proclaiming Him? I hope so. I'd like to hope I have guts like the Overcomers, but I just don't know.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre...

Sometimes things fall apart, and sometimes they come together.

Tonight I watched a movie called Water, about an eight-year-old Hindu widow who was sent to a widows' home. Considered to have shared in her husband's death, and therefore half-dead, she would be unclean for the rest of her life--even after ritual purification, her touch would defile others. I've been reading Things as They Are, about Amy Carmichael's work in India in the early 1900s, and she discusses widows' lives in detail. A man in Water tells a widow that widows have three options: suttee, or burning with their husbands (the movie is set in 1938); denial of all earthly desire; or marriage to the husband's younger brother, providing the family agrees. A widow lives under a curse. She failed to keep her husband alive, and therefore must live apart and beg--or whore--for her food. She lives in bondage, always hoping that she will have enough faith in her god to be released at the end, and possibly to be reborn as a man, if she is a woman of high caste.

I thought about that, and then I thought about the Brahmin in the movie who said that Brahmins get to sleep with any women they choose, and they bless the women by sleeping with them. You see, they are holy by birth. And then I thought about what I've been learning in Old Testament: every religion has holy men who are inherently better than others, and untouchable in some unfathomable way. Every religion has people set apart, sacrosanct by their own efforts or by some accident of birth. Every religion, that is, but Christianity.

In the Old Testament, we can see that the priest, and even the High Priest, has to make an offering for himself before he can offer for the people. Before the Day of Atonement, the High Priest must spend seven days in purification, under intense questioning, a time so stressful that the priest and his questioners tremble and cry. On that day the priest must lay his hands on the head of a bull, confess his sins, and then slaughter the bull for his sins. He must be covered by the blood, just like the people for whom he is about to make the atonement sacrifice. "There is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good and sinneth not."

Take it into the New Testament: We have a great High Priest who does not need to make atoning sacrifices for Himself, because He is perfect, both priest and sacrifice. He is atonement in the flesh. He is the bridge between law and grace, between justice and wrath, and mercy. His priesthood is greater by far than Aaron's, and He by His blood sanctifies each of us, making us "a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that [we] may proclaim the praises of Him who called [us] out of darkness into His marvelous light; who once were not a people, but are now the people of God, who had not obtained mercy but now have obtained mercy" (I Pet. 2:9-10). There is no special, holy caste among us. Think of it: all through the Old Testament, with whom does God's heart dwell? The poor, the helpless, and the widow. What was Jesus' purpose in coming here? He said, "The Spirit of the LORD is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed; to proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD" (Luke 4:18-19; Is. 61:1-2). Jesus' heart was with the broken down, destroyed, and oppressed. He loved and had mercy on those whom the world saw as vile and utterly to be rejected. And who was Jesus? "He is despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him; He was despised, and we did not esteem Him. Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded by our transgressions, He was bruised by our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned, every one, to his own way; and the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all. He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth; He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so He opened not His mouth. He was taken from prison and from judgment, and who will declare His generation? For He was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgressions of My people He was stricken. And they made His grave with the wicked--but with the rich at His death, because He had done no violence, nor was any deceit in His mouth. Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise Him; He has put Him to grief..." (Is. 53:3-10a).

I think often we forget to what great extent He identified with us. Jesus, a rabbi, holy by custom and nature, YHWH in the flesh, became sin for us. He became the thing He most hated, for us. What do you think killed Him? I have heard it said that He died of a broken heart when God, who has purer eyes than to look on sin, turned His face away from His Son and broke a fellowship more intimate than any we have ever known. It cuts to the heart, friends.

But think about what He did in His life. The woman with the issue of blood touched Him, and He became ritually unclean, according to the Levitical laws. He not only touched lepers; He clasped them to Himself. Jesus, many times in His every day life, became ritually unclean to touch those despised of men. Jesus intentionally turned the supposed holy order on its ear. He, the only Holy One, willingly touched unclean people. He played with children--stopped in the middle of a sermon, in fact, to include children in the kingdom of God. Jesus' heart was always with the helpless. Look at John 2:13-17. "Now the Passover of the Jews was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. And He found in the temple those who sold oxen and sheep and doves, and the money changers doing business. When He had made a whip of cords, He drove them all out of the temple, with the sheep and the oxen, and poured out the changers' money and overturned the tables. And He said to those who sold doves, 'Take these things away! Do not make My Father's house a house of merchandise!' Then His disciples remembered that it was written, 'Zeal for Your house has eaten Me up.'" Who did Jesus single out especially when he drove the people from the temple? Those who sold doves. And who would have bought doves? The poor. In the Old Testament system of graduated sacrifices, the poor were allowed to bring birds to sacrifice for their sins if they could not afford sheep. It's one of the neatest pictures of God's mercy. He makes repentance possible for all. But what was happening in the temple was a racket. Not only was the outermost court--into which, I believe, Gentiles could enter--filled with the noise of buying and selling instead of worship, and with the litter and excrement of animals instead of clean people and clean sacrifices, but the people had come up with a system to abuse God's standards. Because of the Levitical standards for a spotless sacrifice, there had long been a system of Levite guards at the front of the Temple, who would examine the animals for their acceptability as sacrifices. At the time of Jesus, the guards would routinely declare suitable animals unsuitable, and offer to let the worshiper trade his animal for a temple animal, for a reasonable sum. Further, they insisted that all money be presented in the form of temple coin, which money changers would change at an inflated rate. So the priests were profaning the court that the Gentiles could enter, subtly declaring that God didn't care about them, and they were also taking massive advantage of worshipers, especially the poor. Is it any wonder that Jesus, furious, took the time to braid a whip together so He could beat people out of His temple? But the part I love best is that He singled out those who took advantage of the poor for a special rebuke. His heart was with the poor.

What does this have to do with Water? Jesus loves widows. Jesus loves the poor, the disadvantaged, the unclean, and those hated by society. Jesus loves the rejects. Do you realize, in a world of gods that did not respond to the cries of the poor, our God led the way for them to come to Him? Even more, He came and found them! Oh, to understand the neverending compassion of my God. I think if I did, if I saw His glory like that, I would die. It is too great for me.

What does this mean in your life and in mine? We come proclaiming liberty to the captives, healing to the brokenhearted, and sight to the blind. We come able to touch those the world sees as untouchable, not a people, and defiled. In Water, a man told a widow not to let her shadow touch a bride, because it would defile her. Listen: Paul walked with God, and God so touched his life that even the touch of his shadow would bring healing. We have a share in that. We have love that the world cannot understand. We--and I do not condescend here; I speak the truth--have access to the love of God, and no one else has that. According to I John, we are the only people who have access to love at all, because the world can offer parodies of love, but it can never make the real thing.

At the end of the movie, a Brahmin widow delivered the young girl into the hands of Gandhi's followers, in the hope that they would be her deliverance. What struck me about this scene was that people from all over her village thronged a railway station to hear Gandhi speak for five minutes, jostling each other, not caring about defilement because they were drawn to Gandhi. It broke my heart. Gandhi told them that he had stopped thinking of God--and though it is capitalized I do not mean my God--as Truth, and had discovered that Truth was God, and the search for truth would bring liberation. I ached, because here were hundreds and hundreds of people flocking to see a false prophet, preaching lies that sounded near enough to the Truth to convince, and what they received was only a sick parody of the real thing. Gandhi reached out and blessed little children, but he was only a man. People followed him to the death, and he was only a man.

Friends, we do not serve a parody. We serve God, a very God, who is good and who does good, the high and lofty One who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy, who has loved us with an everlasting love. I am as guilty as anyone of this, but why are we not beating down doors to tell people about Him, about Life? We have Someone to offer; the world has only a farce. What are we doing with this great blessing? Why have they still not heard?

For y'all: Ps. 126:5-6 Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy. He who continually goes forth weeping, bearing seed for sowing, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.

Also: Ps. 149: 5-9 Let the saints be joyful in glory; let them sing aloud on their beds. Let the praises of God be in their mouths, and a two-edged sword in their hands, to execute vengeance on the nations, and punishment on the peoples; to bind their kings with chains, and their nobles with fetters of iron; to execute on them the written judgment--this honor have all His saints. Praise the LORD!

So basically I don't know quite what that means, but it really jumped out at me a lot. Maybe y'all have some suggestions.

As for me, I'm on a little adventure. For months now this thing has been bothering me, and it came to a head last night at our Lord's Supper service, where God kind of said, either deal with this, or you can't take My supper. So I'm trying to deal with it, and I would appreciate your prayer support, because this is sort of a scary situation for me.

Here's the deal: A year and a half to two years ago, I hit a car in the Union parking lot. I was trying to back out from between two behemoths that were really close to me, and I was concentrating on the one next to me so hard that I didn't see a third behind me. Well, I smacked into its bumper. Naturally, I freaked out, got out, and looked, and I couldn't see any damage to it, and my car looked okay, so, since I didn't know what to do and didn't see anything I could do, I drove away. Well, I saw the car again later, and it looked like the bumper had been pushed up, but I still didn't know how to deal with it, so I didn't. This has been bothering me for ages. I've talked to Mom about it and given it to God and repented, but He's been telling me for a while now that He wants me to make it right. He's even told me who at Union to call. So last night I surrendered to it, and I called Union this morning and talked to the head of Safety and Security, who was very gracious and promised to research it. The scary part now is that I don't know what's going to come out of his research or how it's going to affect me. I'm going to do whatever I have to do to make it right, but I'm definitely in unknown territory. So if you guys want to lift me up for that, I'd appreciate it greatly.